Perfectionist
by xblackrosefirex
Summary: Olga Pataki is every parents dream come true. However, being perfect comes at a price.


My third Hey Arnold story, this time with Olga Pataki. In this fic, you might see a deeper, more genuine side to Olga (in the show, she can come off as being kind of fake). I wanted to paint her in a more different light.

Up next is Bob, and then Helga, and then after that, Arnold.

Summary: Olga Pataki is every parents dream come true. However, being perfect comes at a high price.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold.

I gaze up at the clear glass trophy sitting on top of my parents fireplace. One of many, it was the very essence of a winner. Its serene crystal appearance bragged of my numerous accomplishments. In truth, I didn't see it that way. I no longer do. To me, it's a reminder of what I really am: a follower and sheep. I glared at it, for it seemed to mock me, as if to say, "I am an extension of you, and this is all you will ever be."

I walked over to my parents couch, a glass of Chardonnay in my hand, and sat down. As I took a sip, I began to think of my life, and who I was.

My name is Olga Pataki and I am trapped in a fog of constant deceit.

I was born on September 9th (1), to Miriam and Bob Pataki. I grew up in Hillwood, a rather large city, where I attended PS 118, PJHS 121 (2) and finally, Wellington College (3). I am 24 years old, and have been going steady with a man named Carter, who is an economics major, for the past year (4)

Ever since I can remember, I've always been the center of attention of my parents world. I was their go-getter, their perfect little Olga. The famous Pataki child that could do no wrong. I was called, "Daddy's little winner," and "Mommy's little angel."

I remember when I was very little. Daddy brought me into his work, to show off the shiny gold trophy I won in the Junior National Spelling Bee. It was the first time I had ever won anything in my entire life. At a mere six years old, I was the national champion.

"See boys," he had said to his workers, "This is what it's all about. My Olga wiped the floor with those saps. There is nothing that she can't do."

From then on, I went on to receive numerous awards. My parents would attend every single competition I participated in, cheering me on from the audience. My mother would often call up all her friends, and begin with, "Oh, you just won't believe what my darling little Olga did today."

When I was nine years old, my mother announced that she was pregnant. I still remember the day she told us what she was having.

I had wandered into the new nursery. What was once a blank, empty room was now painted a light pink. The corners of the walls were painted a deep purple.

I had asked my mother if she heard any news from the doctor. She patted her belly, and smiled.

"She's doing just fine, Olga." At hearing this, my little eyes lit up, and I could scarcely contain myself.

"A sister?!" I shouted with glee. My mother threw her head back and laughed. From off in the distance, I could hear daddy grumble. I knew he wanted a boy, but I didn't care. I announced that this was better than winning gold trophy, and started jabbering on and on about how I wanted to help my mother with the new baby.

Then, on March 29, my little sister was born. My parents named the screaming, tiny pink beach ball Helga. As I held her, I told her that I was going to be the best big sister ever, and that I would take, "real good care of her."

When Helga was born, I thought the attention would have been taken off of me, and onto the new baby. However, this wasn't the case. If anything, the attention grew. Now my parents not only expected me to be the best, but to be the best so I could set an example for my new sister. I didn't mind, for I wanted Helga to be successful; we all did.

Helga continued to grow day by day. I enjoyed the time we shared together. When she was first learning to walk, her chubby little hands would grip my fingers as I helped her waddle about.

And the more Helga grew, so did we. That is, we grew further and further apart.

My parents continued to shower me with love and affection, and I basked in the glow that came with being a winner.

And do you know what the worst part is? I never said anything about Helga. Never once did I ask them, "How's Helga doing?" or "So what has Helga been up to, lately?" I was too busy bragging about my latest afternoon tea with the mayor of Hillwood, or the volunteer work I did in Alaska. I spent too much time performing Chopin's Minute Waltz.

I was too busy to show even one ounce of interest in Helga's life.

Helga resented me. She didn't think I knew, but I did. How could she not, and there was no way I could blame her. I had taken away what she needed most from our parents: their love and attention as well. Whenever I came home, she was pushed away into the shadows, like a doll a little child got bored with as they grew older. I didn't fault her for resenting me. If I was in Helga's shoes, I would resent me too.

Another reason she resented me, was the way I talked to her. Whenever I addressed her, I rarely called her by her true name. It was always "baby sister." And when I did talk to her, I would use this voice I had, as if I were talking to a small child.

Helga and I never really got along. As much as I would love to bond with my sister, I don't think we ever will. The only thing we had in common, was the fact that we were sisters. But other than that, we were complete opposites.

Oh, I've tried numerous times, to get along with Helga. Whenever I came to visit with my family, I would try to include Helga in activities, not just to get close to her, but to make her a part of our family as well. She always came up with some sort of excuse, though. In truth, she didn't want to be around me.

I think the worst thing I had ever done, was when I told her entire class that she wet her bed, up until she was seven years old. Because of me, Helga was the laughing stock of her fourth grade class for a week. What's worse; my baby sister had lost all trust in me, if she even ever had any in the first place?

Isn't that sad? My own sister, can't trust me. Her very words still haunt me, even to this day, "The truth is, I can't stand you."

I can't even begin to tell you how those words crushed me. I was so afraid that I had done what I never intended to do: I pushed my little sister away from me, and I had feared that I had done it for good.

I never meant to hurt and embarrass Helga. In truth, I thought I was doing a good thing, by sharing an inspirational story to her classmates about never giving up, and taking control of your own destiny. I like to think of myself as a kind person, but I guess there's a lot I have to learn.

Before I told that story, I had become a student teacher to Helga's class. I remember the look on her face. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped down in horror, as if to say, "Oh…dear God, NO! NO WAY!" Even after Helga made me promise not to tell anyone any personal stories, I still couldn't keep my mouth shut. I think…I think that is why she can't trust me.

What's more, I was also very aware of what Helga really thought of me: a complete "air head," (she had put it). Someone who didn't understand the real meaning of the world, but lived in her own fantasy instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I would catch her scowling at my bright smiles, and I would hear her sigh in disgust at the sound of our parents dotting on me.

But, there is something that Helga doesn't know. Underneath the perfection, underneath my golden persona, underneath the award winning Olga Pataki, was a girl screaming to get out. In truth, my golden persona was no more than a façade.

I screamed every day of my life, and no one could hear me. In truth, I wasn't happy.

I hated myself. I hated what I had become. I was no longer a human being, but a wind up doll, a marionette that would dance to the music of my parents words of pride. If you looked closely, you probably could have seen the strings.

Helga might think that I have it all, but she couldn't be more wrong. I didn't have what was most important: a life to call my own.

For as far back as I can remember, I performed the dance of perfection, and I performed it well. When I was a little girl, and before every acceptance speech, I would often say to myself, "Smile, and be happy. Put on a show."

Growing up, I would often hear my father tell me, "Always be the best," "You have to remember to crush your opponent," "Failure is not an option," and, "You're a Pataki, and Pataki's are winners."

However, there were times when I was younger, when I didn't win. The first time, I remember so vividly:

I was seven years old, and I had gotten third place in a dance competition. My father was furious. The entire way home, I was in tears. I listened to my father berate me.

"How could you have lost to that skinny runt?" He growled, "In all my years, I have never seen a Pataki lose in a competition, never. You obviously didn't work hard enough, Olga. And, I guess you truly don't care about the Pataki name. We Pataki's aren't losers, Olga, and I won't tolerate failures. What happened today was an embarrassment, and I sure hope to god no one will find out, so you better keep your mouth shut, Olga? You hear me? Now, when we get home, you're going to park your sorry little fanny in the living room, and you are going to practice those moves until you get them right. And until you do, you don't eat."

That had to have been one of the worst days of my life. Where as many parents would have given their children words of happiness and encouragement, my father shot me down. Since then, I worked even harder to succeed, to please him.

That's right. I didn't do this for me. The truth is, I kept on being the best, because it was expected of me. I kept being the best, so that I would stay my father's darling little Olga.

I kept being the best to make everyone happy, except for me.

I no longer felt like a winner, but I didn't feel like a loser. All I felt inside of me, was this empty void. I used to believe that my father and I had the same idea of being the best was. Now, I'm not so sure anymore.

I let the last drop of wine slide down my throat, and I got up from the couch. I waked over to stare at the glass trophy once more.

And as I stared at it, I found myself once again thinking of my life, and how much I had lost.

I had lost the courage to be who I truly was. For years, I had played the part of the perfect daughter. For years I had danced the dance of perfection. For years I had endured the burden of my father's judgmental glare if I wasn't the best.

And that's when I decided, that I was finished.

In a moment of both anger and determination, I grabbed the trophy, and threw it to the ground, smashing it.

I was done being the perfect daughter. For years, I had put on a façade, I wore a mask to cover up the real me.

But no more. For once in my life, I wanted my life to be mine. And no Big Bob Pataki would ever change that.

The award winning Olga was gone, and hopefully for good.

I grabbed my keys from the counter, and headed out the door. I didn't know where I was going, nor did I even care. All I knew, was that my own life had just begun. It would be difficult to start over, but a life that's not yours, isn't worth living.

I started my car, and drove towards the sun. I wasn't leaving Hillwood for good. I would be back, one day. And when I returned, I was determined to return a new person.

One that my sister would like, and most of all, one that I could truly be proud of.

I rolled down my window, and let the wind blow through my hair. As the cool breeze kissed my face, I allowed myself an honest smile.

My name is Olga Pataki, and I am finally free.

Notes:

1) With the help of MorTay3, I decided to pick Olga's zodiac sign to be a Virgo (MorTay3 gave me the suggestion, and I want to take this time to thank them for it).

Virgos are said to be perfectionists. They can be overly critical, and are very well organized. However, the perfectionism can really drive those around Virgos crazy (my dad's a Virgo, and yes, while I love him dearly, he can really drive me crazy at times).

I have a book called Lovestrology, by Phyllis Vega, which is where I found the Virgo profile. I used these passages to help me out:

Page 22: "No sign pays more attention to order and detail than Virgo."

To tell the truth though, I could also picture Olga being a Capricorn. I'll explain her actual birthdate (the one I chose for her) in a minute, but I'd like to share some passages about Capricorn, and maybe you'll see why I can see Olga being a Capricorn. Please note that all quotes are from the same book.

Page 26: "Your outstanding characteristics are ambition determination, resiliency, and the persistence to overcome just about any setback. You win, because you refuse to quit."

Now, for Olga's September 9th birthday.

I researched this birthday, and according to gotohoroscope, those born on September 9th, tend to be more "precise and impulsive" than most Virgos usually are. When I say impulsive when it comes to Olga, I don't mean that she's impulsive in the sense that she jumps head first into crazy situations (unless you count her short lived engagement to Doug in the episode "Olga Gets Engaged."). I mean she's impulsive in the sense that she's very eager and set to win and be the best in everything she is. This is shown particularly when she is led to believe that she got a B+ in the episode, "Olga Comes Home." In reality, Helga changed the grade, out of jealousy for her sister. Not knowing the truth (until the end of the episode), Olga spent the entire episode in her room, severely depressed.

Most people would be fine with a B+. It's passing, and more, it's a good grade. I think Olga was depressed, not just because she got a B+ for the first time, but because she prides herself on being the best.

However, in this fic, I wanted to portray Olga in a different light. In the same episode, Olga tells Helga that she often gets tired of having to perform all the time like a wind-up doll, and that Helga was lucky that their parents barely noticed her. So, that got me thinking: what if there was another side to Olga that we didn't see in the show? What if she was so eager to win and be the best, not because she truly wanted to, but because she believed it was expected of her, and more than likely, drilled into her by her father at a very young age.

Also according to , those born on September 9th, "need to relax a little bit and stop being so overly critic and perfectionist." And the episode "Olga Comes Home," she was being very critical of herself, by staying the entire episode in her room, crying.

Dear God, I wouldn't want to see her if she ever got a C.

2) PJHS 121 stands for Public Junior High School 121. It's a made up school but I tried to create it to fit the world of Hey Arnold. Notice how their schools are called P.S. and then a number?

3) The college Olga attends. In some episode, I think it was "Olga Comes Home," Helga says that her sister goes to this school. What's interesting enough, Wellington College actually exists, and it's located in Berkshire, United Kingdom. Google it.

4) A made up character. I decided to give Olga a boyfriend, after that little incident with Doug (see "Olga Gets Engaged."). However, with this boyfriend, she's not as eager to marry him as she was with Doug. In the same episode, she announced that they were getting married, after only knowing Doug for only a little over three weeks.


End file.
